


Yes, Mister Walsh

by tommiwithaquill



Category: How to Get Away with Murder
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-04
Updated: 2017-10-04
Packaged: 2019-01-09 00:45:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12265455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tommiwithaquill/pseuds/tommiwithaquill
Summary: All of that expensive bourbon was going straight into the sink when he got home. Or maybe he would sell it to try and keep himself afloat during the horrible weeks of unemployment he was about to face.





	Yes, Mister Walsh

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is long overdue. A friend sent me a prompt a while back based on one of those late night text meme things. It was something akin to "I accidentally sent a sext meant for someone else to my boss."

Oliver stared at his phone, eyes wide in horror. The pull-up screen still had the airplane mode icon highlighted, but he knew when he would swipe it back down that the sent icon would still be glaring back at him from just below the photo. The image had been sent the previous evening to Thomas - a sweet guy he had just met a few weeks ago at a bar down the street from work. When he woke up in the morning, however, he realized that somehow his drunken brain had managed to select "Connor Walsh" instead. The same Connor Walsh that he was going to have to work with - that he had to send corporate e-mails to on a daily basis. No amount of turning airplane mode on and off would get rid of the image of Oliver's cock in his hand, and he wasn't sure the color would ever fade from his ears. 

He was also fairly certain he would never get rid of the queasiness in the pit of his belly. Would Mister Walsh think the image was sexual harassment? Would Oliver lose his job via a trip to the HR department? Would it be such a bad thing if he did? 

Oliver was tempted to never return to his place of employment ever again, but the company had treated him incredibly well, and paid him far more than a lot of other environments deemed him worthy of. Besides, if he did ghost on the company (and subsequently his boss) he would be left with a guilty conscience that would plague his attempts to sleep. 

Maybe Connor wouldn't have seen the image. There were rumors that the man liked to go out himself - maybe he would understand that it was a mistake? It was thoughts such as those that motivated Oliver to get into his car and make his usual morning commute. More ideas as to the various ways he could still be in the clear were what forced his legs to take him up the stairs to his third floor office space, and what helped him keep his focus on menial coding in the morning. By the afternoon Oliver had actually managed to work his way into forgetting the incident entirely - until, of course, he was summoned via the company Skype to meet with Mister Walsh after his lunch. 

That lunch went completely untouched right next to his third cup of coffee. It was rather difficult to eat when one was certain they were about to be fired and charged with whatever misdemeanor fines one could be hit with in response to unsolicited dick pics in the work place. His overly terrified brain even went so far as to convince him there was potential jail-time headed his way, and by the time he actually made it to Mister Walsh's secretary he was one wrong move away from retching.

After what felt like an eternity of bouncing his leg and squeezing his own fingers, the secretary beckoned Oliver in to meet his demise with a kind smile and bright eyes. 

If only that secretary knew he was a sexual deviant.

"H-hi...Mister Walsh." Maybe there was still a chance this was about something else. Oliver had been working on a pretty huge project, after all. 

"Oliver." Connor greeted with a rather unreadable expression. "Have a seat." 

Oliver's stomach felt like it dropped right down into his kneecaps, his legs buckling when he practically fell back into the chair. 

"Do you know why we're having this meeting?" Connor asked, fingers steepling in front of his lips. 

The tirade of words started shoving one another out of the way to be the first out of his mouth before Oliver could even process what he actually wanted to say. "Mister Walsh I...the picture...I didn't mean, it was...it was. I'm so sorry I didn't...it was meant..I mean." It took a few more minutes of frantic stumbling and panicked eye movements for him to actually squeak out "it wasn't meant for you!"

The din of silence that followed felt heavy in his ears. 

"So the text message about wanting my dick in your mouth wasn't meant for me either?" 

Oliver felt his heart actually crumple behind his breast bone. "Oh god. No. No, did I send that too?" He groaned and hid his face in his hands. He was going to lose his entire career and what little dignity he'd managed to retain into adulthood...all because he got a little too drunk.

All of that expensive bourbon was going straight into the sink when he got home. Or maybe he would sell it to try and keep himself afloat during the horrible weeks of unemployment he was about to face.

"That's a pity." The words felt like several icicles breaking across his nose. It took his brain quite a few seconds to muddle through the cacophony of his own thoughts to work out what exactly Connor had said - and it took even longer to fully understand the man's three words.  
Oliver ended up gawking at his boss. 

"...you...wanted those messages to be for you?" Years of unrequited pining surged up from the depths - having violently been shoved away and tied up in thoughts of 'he's your boss' and 'he will never want you'. Maybe his drunken self hadn't been such a horrible person after all. "Is this a joke?" Oliver couldn't help but ask despite knowing how unattractive his lack of confidence must have been. 

"Because I would. I would understand. If it was. I mean if you want to tease me for eternity that's fine as long as it means I'm not about to get fired or put in a prison cell with some giant muscled jerk who's looking for a bitch. Oh god. I said bitch in...I'm just gonna. Is that. Are we. Is that my punishment? Can I go die in the bad bathroom?" 

Connor had tilted his head, watching Oliver through heavy-lidded eyes and sporting an amused smirk. He cleared his throat very deliberately before patting the edge of his desk. "You know what would help you stop babbling?" The man asked it with lifted brows. "Making good on your promise. I'd really like to think that message was intended for me..." 

Bad idea. Bad, bad, horrible, terrible idea. That was the boss he had tried very hard to get over throughout their professional careers and those texts weren't even meant for Connor. Then again...would it be so hard to pretend they weren't? Thomas hadn't exactly been very kind to him after their first date...and this would be making several of his suppressed, heated dreams come true. 

That was probably why Oliver ended up on his knees, tucked under the desk and trying to avoid hitting his head as he fumbled at the expensive leather of Mister Walsh's belt. He was determined to give the other man the best blow job that he could, and judging by the boss' sharp inhale as soon as Oliver placed his lips around the head of Connor's cock, it was off to a good start. 

Oliver pressed his palms against each of Connor's inner thighs, wrists being dug into by the edge of the other's slacks, which were scrunched just below his knees. The small space was rapidly warming and caused Oliver's hair to curl slightly, sweat dampening the collar of his shirt. Oliver was maybe a little too eager, sliding his mouth along the length of Connor's dick over and over until his chest burned and he had to pull off for a gasp of air. Whenever he did the shock of cold that hit Connor made his stomach ache in the best way. 

Eventually, though, the man grew tired of the tease and he wrapped his fingers messily in Oliver's tie and cinched it tighter around the base of Ollie's throat. Connor's other hand dug into dark hair and forced Oliver's mouth back down onto his cock. He knew Oliver had been doing it on purpose as soon as the man adapted and started breathing through his nose as if he knew he could do so all along. 

"Fuck," Connor swore after a few seconds of panting filled the room. Connor's knee hit the inside of his desk as he allowed himself a few small thrusts into the heat of Oliver's mouth. The other man accommodated those movements like a champ, and just as he started to take Connor deeper - Oliver grazed the very tip of his tongue under the defining ridge of the head, and Connor didn't even have a chance to warn Oliver before he was coming a lot sooner than he intended.

Slowly Connor relaxed the grip he'd held on Oliver's tie, coaxing the other man off with a few well-placed brushes of his fingertips along Ollie's jaw and throat. "S-sorry..." Connor apologized sheepishly. It was jarringly adorable and Oliver felt a little twist in his chest in response, his lips still parted as he tried to drag in the air he had been denied. 

"It's okay," Oliver finally rasped before wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand. His whole body was still sparking with sensitivity, muscles twitching in his arms every time the sleeves of his shirt moved against them. Ollie leaned his ass back against the heels of his shoes to roll those sleeves up as he tried to relax himself, still trying to breathe properly. "S-so...uhm..." Oliver didn't even realize he was tucking Connor back into his boxer-briefs, and pulling up the man's pants. The motions had come simply, as if he was on auto-pilot as he tried to adjust to everything that had happened so quickly.

"I'll expect you to keep me updated with more photos of that project, Hampton." Connor put things into perspective so easily that it made Oliver wonder if the man could somehow read his mind. "And." A certain gentleness came into the other's tone, setting a different meaning than the coy one Connor had just been using. "I'd like to meet for dinner this evening. I think we have a lot more to discuss." 

Oliver could only fight against the huge grin threatening to take over for so long, his eyes crinkling at the corners when he finally lost that battle. His response came with an adorable sort of playfulness behind it. 

"Yes, Mister Walsh."


End file.
